Chapter 3: Windshift: Negotiations

"Well, he was already officially dead ... a little more won't matter. We don't take runaways or murder victims ... never where a body is necessary.

"So, we'd like to offer you opportunities for risky adventure in out of the way places. If you're successful, you 'get to keep the booty', so to speak ... and we pay well.

"You'll have fun, keep the old heart rate up and the adrenaline pumping. We make sure you're equipped to fit in with where you go.

"You keep the brain you've got ... with a small addition, the memories are yours, we don't change them.

"If you live and your 'contract' time is up, you can choose any of the trillion planets that have similar species, and I assure you, there are trillions of others you DON'T want.

"We'll give you your accumulated salary ... with interest, place timely but enormous amounts of local specie at your disposal, you continue with your life until it ends, however it ends.

"We get entertained by your antics and applaud your demise should such occur.

"Some of our contractors have managed to stay on a single planet all their lives. Some pick a specific date for removal, negotiable of course, depending on the circumstances present at the end of contract.

"You give us ten years, for each of those ten, we add ten to your lifespan.

"We absorb the modification costs, you can pick your own age as long as you don't choose under 16.

"We'll repair any physical faults ... you're stuck with mental aberrations ... except phobias.

"You'll emerge physically fit, able to run ten miles in 40 minutes ... and keep running all day. Swim like a fish, the lungs of a Sherpa, speak and understand any language and dialect ... fit right in with the natives.

"What do you say? Want to sign up?

"Oh, wait, there's more. Sexual prowess ... the member of a Holmes ... attractive to females ... or males, if you so desire. People, basically humanoid, male or female, will WANT to be your friend.

"We won't put you with spiders or snakes ... we'll put you with humanoids.

It waited, refilled the cups and caused Twinkies and Krispy Kreme sugared donuts to appear. Noticing his companions disgust, a plate of veggies and dip appeared.

"No?"

"Scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, sausage gravy, a biscuit or two and orange juice would go well with this marvelous coffee," he requested.

They appeared.

"You have sugar and Twinkie dust on your ... ah ... chin? front? chest? A little more to the right. That's got it."

"Thank you."

A companionable silence, except for the crunch and clatter of plate and utensils.

A burp ... a dab of the lip with fine linen ... a long draught of coffee and it ... he? ... continued.

"I get so wound up with the positives of the job, I forget the negatives.

"You cannot, under any circumstances, become a god or start a religion.

"You may not own slaves. You may, should the occasion arise, purchase indentures.

"Multiple spouse are fine, unless there is a planetary law preventing such ... if the idea of multiples ... trips your trigger ... we'll insure a selection of planets where that is possible.

"You must do your possible to be at peace with the local shaman, priest, soothsayer, fakir, whatever ... so long as they are honest and trustworthy. However, if they are using the office in conjunction with despots ... feel free.

"Oh, 'Thou shall not commit murder in cold blood.' Pissed is fine. Killing for the fun of it is out.

"You may, at anytime, squeal for help ... it's up to you to decide if it's us helping or them hindering.

"You are not alone ... there are other ... sometimes hundreds ... of contractors on the same planet.

"That's it."

A parchment appeared, a sharp knife, and a small bottle that smelled like alcohol along with a pen. The ink of the parchment was drying. Every pause, clatter and burp of the conversation was written on the parchment.